Heroics
by seaglasssoul
Summary: BNHA prompt/one-shot/drabble collection.
1. Izuocha, Canonverse, Kitchen Talk

A/N: Tumblr prompt, 'He opened the door to find her standing there, crying.' Izuocha.

* * *

It was dark in the kitchen at this hour, but there was no mistaking the way her shoulders shook at every breath or those soft, almost wheezing exhales. Her back was to him, hunched as she was over the sink surrounded by what looked like every single piece of dinnerware they owned in the new on-school apartments.

"Hey Ochako, you okay?" Izuku asked, voice soft so he didn't startle her. Ever since the incident with All for One, she'd been first furious, then distant, then distracted. This wasn't the first time after that he saw her alone somewhere, lost in thought; this was just the first time he'd also seen her _crying,_ and the flash of desperation on her face when she turned toward him made something tighten in his chest.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Totally fine," she said, and Izuku was surprised at how even her tone was given the fresh tear stains shining in the light of the microwave clock.

He glanced at the network of plates and glasses nearest him on the floor and began to pick his way over to her, leaving a respectful distance in between so she could continue to pretend she wasn't crying. "You uh, looking for a midnight snack, too?" he said as he leaned against the opposite counter, internally writhing at his terrible excuse for humor.

Ochako _did_ smile, though, so maybe this wasn't so bad after all. "Have you ever felt useless before, Deku?" she asked after a shaky breath, hands still clutching the sink behind her.

An avalanche of memories overtook him: Kacchan's merciless fists and stinging words on the playground, his classmates' jeering laughs at his Quirklessness, his mother weeping 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry' over and over. But he couldn't tell her about any of that, couldn't tell any of his new friends about his Quirkless past without raising awkward questions, so instead he said, "Yeah. In the woods, I was right there, and I couldn't stop them from taking Kacchan away. He was there in front of me, just about in arm's reach, and I _still_ couldn't save him."

Ochako was looking at the floor now and remained quiet for longer than Izuku was expecting. He was about to say something when she raised her head, eyes filled to the brim with new tears, and stepped over a plate to bury her face in his neck.

Startled, he brought one arm up to gingerly pat her back while he had a moral crisis about where to put the other, finally settling on somewhere above her waist. She had begun to sob in earnest during that time, and Izuku made awkward comforting noises and tried to think of what All Might might do in this situation.

"You guys went out there and risked your _lives_ trying to bring him back," Ochako sobbed, leaning back to wipe her face despite the wet spot Izuku could feel on his shoulder. "While I stayed back and did _nothing._ Not that I would have been much help, as I am now, but just you wait Deku, just you wait. I'm gonna be as strong as you or Bakugo or Kirishima." She bent over to touch all of the plates and silverware in their immediate vicinity, and as they rose, she walked around the rest of the kitchen, touching dinnerware as she went. Soon there was a mass of floating plates and cutlery around them, but before Izuku could ask her what she was doing Ochako had brought her hands together. Taking a deep breath, she squeezed them together and the plates began to drop a little. Another, harder squeeze, and all the floating utensils began to drift downwards at a much slower pace than if she'd simply released them.

The moment the first glass touched down she pulled her hands apart and ran to the sink, gagging, and suddenly it all made sense to Izuku: she'd been training her Quirk alone, trying to get stronger.

"Next time, I'll protect you guys," she said, spitting into the sink. "Next time, I won't have to wonder if my best friends are coming home." Her voice broke on that last sentence, and now it was Izuku who stepped forward to pull Ochako to his chest.

"You know," he said, holding her a little too tightly but wanting to be sure she got the message, "before I met you, I was unsure about a lot of things. I looked up to All Might, but he was on such a different level that sometimes it was hard to believe I could really keep going. But when you heard Kacchan call me Deku, you didn't hear 'useless' - you heard 'you can do it.' And that change in perspective has helped me so much over the last year." He leaned back enough to look her in the eyes, large and shining and damp around the edges. "Truth is, you've been protecting me for a while now, Ochako."

She met his gaze without a word as what he said sunk in, at which point Izuku became suddenly and violently aware of how forward that sounded. "I uh, you're great is what I mean, and you shouldn't worry about being strong because you fought Kacchan during the Sports Festival and he's scary when he's mad and-" He stopped talking when his feet left the ground.

Their arms were still around each other as they floated and Ochako laughed, a lighthearted, sincere sound that filled him with a strange giddiness, before releasing her Quirk.

"Thanks, Izuku," she said, face dry and voice back to its usual upbeat tone. "You always know just what to say."

He was grateful it was (probably, hopefully, _oh god please_ ) too dark for her to see the blush that was burning its way along his face, but just to be safe he changed the topic anyway. "Anytime. Here, lemme help you put these dishes away."

They made short work of returning the dinnerware to its rightful storage place, and then they were left standing awkwardly in the middle of the now-spotless kitchen. "So, um, have a good rest of your night, Ochako," Izuku said with a lame half-wave. He turned to head back to his room and try not to think about how much he just embarrassed himself or the weird new feeling in his stomach when he remembered how warm Ochako was to hug, except he only made it to the door before he heard her clear her throat.

"If inspiring someone is protection, then you've been protecting me for a long time, too. 'Night, Deku." She waved and walked towards the door to the girls' rooms, and if Izuku stood frozen for an extra few moments, well, he'd say he was simply readjusting to gravity.


	2. Izuocha, AU, Bookstore

A/N: Another tumblr prompt - 'You've been looking through the self-help section at a bookstore for at least 2 hours and this one employee keeps walking by looking more and more concerned every time.' A light Iideku brotp with background Izuocha.

* * *

If it's not some offshoot of Generalized Anxiety Disorder, then it's gotta be mild panic attacks. Or maybe a hybrid of Irritable Bowel Syndrome and asthma? Unless he's getting some kind of new tick-borne disease...

Izuku was sitting on the floor at the campus bookstore surrounded by a steadily growing pile of half-open medical texts and _Psychology for Dummies_ books, alternating between scribbling notes on a dog-eared moleskine and chewing the eraser off the end of his pencil. For the last ten weeks or so he'd noticed the onset of a suite of symptoms he'd never experienced before. So, like the good medical student he was, he'd kept a journal about when and where they manifested.

But so far, none of the data he'd gathered was adding up; in fact, the more he thought about it, the more confused and frankly _nervous_ he became. This wasn't meeting any of the run-of-the-mill diagnoses for any common or easily-cured conditions, which meant he might be exhibiting signs of something more serious.

A sudden stab of pain in his mouth jolted him out of this train of thought, and he quickly realized it was because he just bit through his eraser and into the metal casing that was decidedly un-masticable. Before he could spit it out, though, a shadow fell across the books in front of him. A quick glance up showed that it was one of the store employees he vaguely recognized from a gen ed class a semester or so ago, looking at him with a level of concern on par with witnessing someone about to set himself on fire.

"Can I help you with anything?" the man - Iida, his nametag read - asked in a slow, careful voice. "You've been here for over two hours and you look a bit...ill."

"Uh, no, it's okay, I'm fine. Or, well, I think I'm fine - I'm _probably_ fine, as long as my white blood cell count is above 4,500 per microliter and my liver function tests pan out well and there aren't any lumps that would require a biopsy-"

Iida cleared his throat with a kind look on his face. "Med school student?"

Izuku blinked. "Yeah, I want to be an emergency surgeon one day. How'd you know?"

"Well, let's just say you're not the first one I've seen thinking you're going to die from some archaic illness," Iida said with a chuckle. "Now, let's get you sorted: what kind of disease information are you looking for?"

Groaning, Izuku said, "That's the thing, none of my symptoms add up to any clearly recognizable illness. I'm not entirely sure _what_ I should be looking for."

"How about you start by telling me what's been going on, if it isn't too personal?" Iida moved a stack of books aside so he could join Izuku on the floor before folding his hands in his lap, expectant.

"Uh, let's see." Izuku frowned at the opposite bookshelf for a few moments, trying to organize his thoughts. "I guess it started late last semester. I was talking to my friend Ochako about what she was doing over the weekend, and then out of nowhere I had the first of many tachycardic episodes. She was chatting like she usually does, laughing here and there, nothing I haven't seen or heard before. Then, a few weeks later, we were grabbing lunch when I started getting really sweaty, and that progressed to a stomachache that only went away when I was in my next class.

"What really scared me, though, was a couple weeks ago when she came over on a whim to do some homework. She asked me a simple question and I couldn't seem to form words at all; it was like I couldn't think or move my lips or look away or do anything except gape like an idiot, but I don't _think_ I have any reason to have any clots so a transient ischemic attack seems unlikely."

Iida looked at him with a peculiar expression. "Your friend seems to be the common link. You know what this means, right?"

Izuku shook his head, not at all liking the seriousness in Iida's expression. "No, what?"

"You must be allergic to her. Or something on her person. Has she taken to wearing a new fragrance or fabric?"

"Hm, I don't think so? She's always smelled nice, this sorta citrus body spray I think." Izuku smiled. "We were in this little beachside boutique while everyone else was busy getting second degree burns tanning last summer, and she kept bringing these little bottles up to me asking which one smelled the best. That's where she got it, and it's never bothered me before. I can ask her about her clothes."

Iida nodded. "You might also wish to see whether her detergent upsets you or if there is a kind of mold in her room-"

"Oh, for the love of god, he's _in love._ " From the end of the aisle, one of Ochako's friends in the engineering department - Jirou, he thought she went by - stood up from where she had been leaning against the shelves and walked over, trademark Sennheisers around her neck and face caught somewhere between exasperated and amused.

"Excuse me?" Izuku said, voice cracking.

"You are clearly head over heels, bro." She nodded at the shelf above his head. "I won't charge you for the therapy session this time, but could I _please_ have access to those books? You guys aren't the only ones with problems to work out."

"Right, of course miss," Iida said, standing abruptly. "Let's get going - Izuku, right? From freshman seminar?"

Izuku stood slowly and turned to face him, feeling like he'd been hit over the head with a blunt object - repeatedly. "I...like her?"

Jirou snorted and shouldered past him to grab a book on the top shelf. "You tell me. You're not dying - you're crushing, and _hard_ , by the sounds of it. Try being a little more in touch with yourself." She walked back to the end of the aisle and paused, turning around to wink and say, "I'm rooting for you, Casanova."

It all made sense. The rapid heartbeat, the sweating, the brain-melting gibberish that was all he could say to her sometimes when she got really close and he could smell that citrus perfume and see the little wrinkles in the corners of her eyes when she smiled-

"Hey, are you all right?"

Izuku shook himself. "Ah, yeah. Yes, I'm Izuku." He stopped for a moment while a slow, incredulous grin spread across his face. "And I think I'm in love with my best friend."


	3. Todomomobaku, AU, Fire

A/N: From a tumblr prompt 'Thank you, neighbor, I did set the wall on fire, but only a little and it's out now, no need to be concerned.' In which I gave myself shiplash and then realized I liked them all together.

* * *

When Katsuki got back from class, Shouto thought as he brushed off what was left of the other half of his shirt, there would be no container small enough to house the tattered pieces of his remains.

It had been a normal enough Thursday afternoon. Some of the guys were playing pool in the common room down the hall, Denki was blasting terrible 80s rock next door, and Koji was busy walking the small dog that he was definitely not allowed to have on campus but had managed to sneak in anyway.

Shouto had been hiding away in his room to brood for a bit, which was also nothing out of the ordinary. Despite his strong objections, his father had not allowed him to apply anywhere else or consider any career option that wasn't succeeding him in the family business, so naturally Shouto resented every waking moment spent within school grounds.

Today was particularly bad because he'd had to stay later than he'd anticipated after class to tutor a classmate, which meant he didn't have time to take his smoke break before the next class came in. There weren't many places he could safely smoke around here since it was technically a non-smoking campus, but there _was_ one bathroom by the classroom that locked, and he could open the small window and blow most of the smoke out that way. He'd made note of the cleaning schedules, too, and it just so happened this one was cleaned about an hour before he had a chance to use it and therefore had all night for any fresh smoke smell to dissipate.

And so he'd gotten back to his room in a foul mood, the nicotine itch already consuming over half of his attention. It had started out as another habit taken up as a big _fuck you_ to his dad, alongside things like listening to the most abrasive metal music he could find or dyeing his hair in new and atrocious combinations, but unlike those this one had stuck.

Shouto had thrown his bag onto the bottom bunk, ignoring the strange chemical scent sitting thick in the air - the ball of hate and fury that was his roommate seemed to be something of a backyard chemist - and strode over to his desk to begin the intricate process of opening the secret compartment he'd fitted into it. It wouldn't do to be caught with a lighter or cigarettes on a non-smoking campus, so he'd come up with this RA-proof compromise between maintaining his Honor-student exterior and nicotine-addicted interior.

One last jiggle had unhooked the hidden latch so Shouto could lean over to reach his hand into the small space. There was just enough room for the plain silver Zippo his mother had given him the day before he moved out, without a word, and what was left of a pack of menthols.

Grabbing both, he'd walked past the weird bottles and small apparatus set out on Katsuki's desk to wedge himself into the corner of the room by the window so he could finally have his fucking smoke.

He should have known today was not his day.

All he remembered was flicking open the Zippo one moment and being on the ground, _burning,_ the next. His ears were ringing, so there must have been some kind of explosion, but he couldn't spare that further thought because _half of his body was on fire._ Panicking, he shoved himself up and ran for the door, patting the flames eating away at his shirt while simultaneously trying to divest himself of it, all thoughts of _stop, drop, and roll_ far from his mind as his skin began to blister.

But the moment he was through the door, he was met with the surprised and then concerned face of Momo Yaoyorozu, an Honors student classmate who looked like she had been just about to knock. Before he could do more than open his mouth, she grabbed his non-burning wrist, stepped a leg behind him, and shoved.

He fell hard against the linoleum, coughing, while she said, "Don't just lie there, start rolling!" and started to smother the exposed part of him with her jacket. Shouto rolled, and between his frantic movement and Momo's pat down, the flames were extinguished.

"What the hell happened to you?" she asked when he was finally breathing normally, back against the cool plaster wall and most of his shirt more or less in tatters.

"I'm honestly not sure," Shouto said, thinking of ways he could account for the very illegal lighter that was probably still on the floor of his room. "I was just-"

He was spared the need to come up with an excuse because at that moment a yell like a wounded bear echoed down the hall.

"The fuck did you do our room, dipstick?" Katsuki spat, striding down the hall with his trademark scowl and a glare that could cut steel. "What were you doing in there, lighting black candles so you could listen to more of your fuckin' emo music?"

Shouto bristled and stood up, wincing at the burns along his arm. " _You_ accuse _me_ of being the cause of this when _you're_ the one leaving unlabeled chemicals to sit around and off-gas all day? Where did you learn about chemistry, an uncited Wikipedia page?"

Katsuki snarled and stalked over, murder in his eyes, but Momo stepped between them and put a hand on each of their chests. "Cool it boys. I take it Tenya is at the same RA training as Ochako? Then we have precisely two hours before they're back, which means we have our work cut out for us if we want to clean up this mess before they return."

"What's this 'we' nonsense?" Katsuki said, stepping away and rubbing where her hand had been. "You've got nothing to do with this; go back to your room and play My Little Pony or something."

She was on him in an instant, twisting his wrist behind his back and shoving him into the wall with an efficiency that bespoke years of training. "I will not tolerate disrespect, Bakugou," she said softly, increasing the angle of torque on his shoulder when he tried to resist. "I came here with a request, but maybe now I'll make it an order. It's almost Mina's birthday, and we require access to the barbeque pits you and your football teammates are always mucking up. On July 30th, there better not be the barest hint of Axe bodyspray or empty Natty Lite cans in the area or your dear captain will hear all about these explosive science projects."

Katsuki remained against the wall even after she released him, looking at her with an uncharacteristic mixture of shrewd calculation and _respect_ , and, after an extra moment to give her an appraising once-over, grinned and said, "All right, you've got my attention. If you help us get this mess in order, I'll make sure the pit's clear for your friend's birthday party." He headed into their bedroom, pausing at the doorway to give her a cool smile. "By the way, call me Katsuki."

Shouto glanced at Momo and saw her raise an eyebrow, smiling, and - _god,_ what the fuck just happened?

"Hi, hello, I'm still here, still _burnt to a goddamn crisp_." Parts of his arm were settling into that painful burn-shine, and he wanted to find some antibiotic ointment and bandages ASAP.

Momo looked him over with a critical eye. "You will definitely need those burns treated. They don't look more than first degree though, lucky for you, so before I tend to them let's take a quick peek at the damage to your room so I can grab those supplies, too."

"Supplies?" Shouto said, confused. "Do you normally have a few sheets of drywall just lying around?"

She ignored him in favor of following Katsuki through the door, and it was then Shouto realized that a girl he barely knew was looking at his very private and definitely not emo room.

"Hey, hold on a second, let me move some things around," he said, wincing in his haste to get into the room and hide his MCR CDs.

"Don't worry, I won't judge you for your taste in porn or anything," she said dryly as she began to survey the damage.

Shouto found himself blushing, which was ridiculous since he shouldn't care what Momo thought about his taste in _anything_ , so he distracted himself by looking at the small crater in the wall.

It seemed like whatever it was that had caused the explosion did so with enough power to dent into the drywall by the bunk and send everything on his nightstand flying. Other than that, though, things seemed more or less untouched.

"Okay, this is manageable," Momo said with a decisive nod, turning to head back out. "Both of you, follow me. Shouto, you need medical care, and Katsuki-" she paused to give him a leisurely once-over - "I'll need your arms."

"'Course you will," Katsuki said with that strange new smile, the one that was open and challenging and anticipatory all at once, and suddenly Shouto was struggling to tamp down a very confusing mixture of jealousy and desire.

"Follow me, boys," she said, and strode towards the staircase at the end of the hall.

Katsuki hardly spared Shouto a glance before following her out of their room, face still full of that intrigued determination it's had since she threw him against the wall. Shouto was once again wrestling with that weird jealousy because he most certainly didn't want _either of them_ to toss him against a wall. He clearly needed to be getting more sleep or something.

The dormitories were coed by floor, so the girl's wing was directly below theirs and it wasn't long before they were standing outside of Momo's room. She opened the door and gestured them inside, but only after catching Shouto's eye. "Equivalent exchange, right?" she said with a wry quirk to her lips and - oh _no,_ she must have seen his life-size Riza Hawkeye poster after all.

The horror must have been apparent on his face because she laughed and patted him on his unburned shoulder, which just did strange things to his stomach. "I'm not judging you, don't worry. It means you have good taste in women."

Shouto tried not to let the sudden surge of pride at her approval show, but his success was dubious going by the pronounced spike in murderous intent coming from Katsuki. Well, it wasn't like this was a competition.

And if it were, Shouto would be sure to win.

"Okay Katsuki, take this plaster, plywood, and toolkit with you. We'll be up after I get your roommate taken care of." Momo gestured to the burns on Shouto's arm. "Shouldn't be more than ten minutes or so."

Katsuki didn't seem fazed by the fact that Momo had all of these construction materials lying around her room and was more concerned that she was going to be spending time alone with Shouto. "Nah, it's fine, I got him," he grumbled, waiting nonetheless for her final nod of approval before taking the first-aid kit out of her hands.

"Since when do you know first aid?" Shouto said, watching Katsuki unwind a length of gauze tape. "And why do you have all this construction stuff, Momo?"

Since Katsuki was now attempting to cut the gauze with his _teeth_ , Momo spoke first. "I'm involved in a lot of clubs, you know, and one of them happens to be a very intense kind of art club. You should see some of the concrete sculptures Eijirou makes."

"I didn't realize we had such-hey, what're you doing?" Suddenly Katsuki was very close and unbuttoning what was left of his shirt with a deftness that had Shouto wondering how many times he'd done something like this before.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Katsuki muttered, surprisingly gentle hands taking away the half of Shouto's shirt that wasn't burned and applying a small layer of lidocaine to the shining patches of skin dotting his left arm and torso.

Shouto shut his mouth and let Katsuki do his job, which, if he were being honest, was being done very well. Katsuki was careful with every application of lidocaine and antibiotic ointment, those hands that Shouto was used to seeing clenched angrily around a football or a pencil or a beaker for once soft and relaxed. He found himself leaning into the touch after the first few burns were wrapped loosely with gauze, appreciating the coolness of Katsuki's ointment-laden fingers and how focused he was on mending Shouto. Thoughts of his abusive father and vacant mother flickered in his mind. It was nice, to be cared for.

"There." Katsuki stepped back and turned to Momo, that challenge back in his eyes. "Does it pass your _inspection?_ "

Momo came over and tested the bandages, letting her hand linger on Shouto's chest a little longer than he thought was strictly necessary - but also didn't mind in the slightest. "Looks good to me." She grabbed the toolkit peeking out from under her bunk and headed towards the door. "Grab the plaster and the plywood; let's go fix your wall."

It turned out Momo's father was something of a renaissance man and wanted to make sure his daughter had all the skills she could possibly need to thrive in the world. So Momo directed them as they removed the dented section of the wall and replaced it with a solid enough plywood and plaster cover, all of them very thankful the University had decided to go with the most generic white possible for its dorm wall paint.

At just under the two hour mark, Shouto was tired, sweaty, and covered in plaster, but the hole was fixed and all of the broken glass cleaned up, not to mention the floor cleared of any residual wood and plaster bits. Momo had given Katsuki a pretty stern talking-to about proper chemical storage and common reactions, so hopefully this wouldn't happen again.

"Yeah, but also," Katsuki said after Momo finished her lecture about flammable chemicals, "you really should quit smoking, dude. It'll kill you." At Shouto's raised eyebrows from what is probably the first time he'd verbally expressed that he gave a shit about Shouto's well being, Katsuki added, "And then we won't have to worry so much about any random shit like this happening, or you being a fuckwad and burning something down because a sad song told you to."

That actually made Shouto laugh, and then Momo joined in, and even Katsuki cracked a smile by the end of it. Momo wiped her eyes and said, "You know, I was wrong about you, Katsuki. You're not as much as an asshole as you'd like people to think."

He didn't get a chance to defend his image because just then there was an imperious knock on the door, followed swiftly by their RA striding in with a suspicious look on his face. "Why does it smell like a meth lab in here and why are you all coated in dust?" Tenya said, giving them all The Eye in turn.

Without missing a beat, Momo said, "I was holding a chemistry study session for a small group of students, but we got a little out of hand with the demonstrations and the rest left to clean up." She grabbed each of their hands and continued, "But now these lovely young gentlemen are about to get ready to take me out to ice cream for the trouble. If you don't mind?"

She led them past a very poleaxed Tenya towards the showers where she finally released their hands. "I'll meet you in the common room in thirty," she said, smile full of something that made Shouto's heart skip a beat. "I look forward to getting to know two a lot better."

And then she was gone, walking back the way they'd come towards the stairs to the girl's floor. Shouto turned towards Katsuki to see what he made of that rather suggestive comment, but was instead met with another sight that set his blood on fire.

There was an unmistakeable heat in Katsuki's eyes when he turned to look at Shouto, a heat that didn't dissipate after maintaining eye contact, and the slow grin that spread across his face sent a strange shiver down Shouto's spine.

"Guess we shouldn't keep the lady waiting," he said lightly, something like hunger creeping into his expression. "After you?" He held the door open with that challenging gleam in his eyes, and it stoked a fire in Shouto that he hadn't known was there.

"No," he said, walking over to take the weight of the door away from Katsuki. "After you."


	4. Izuocha, Canonverse, Cooking

A/N: Tumblr prompt, cooking together.

* * *

As Izuku surveyed the giant mound of dishes in the sink, he figured that, on the whole, it could be worse.

A small boom rocked the apartments from what sounded like the boy's bathrooms, followed almost immediately by Kacchan's distant swearing, and yep, it could be a _lot_ worse.

It was only day two of their house arrest, but the apartments already felt too small given the distressing lack of real hiding spots available to deal with Kacchan's severe anger management issues. This had become apparent by hour three of their sentence after Kacchan nearly destroyed the living room couches when Izuku dove behind them to evade a blow, and it was then that Izuku had suggested they divide the chores into separate jobs instead of trying to tackle them together.

Glancing at the clock, he swallowed a groan - class would be letting out soon and he _still_ hadn't started dinner yet, a major problem since feeding twenty growing teenagers was no small feat for a _professional_ , let alone one boy.

He finished up enough dishes so he could sort of see the bottom of the sink and began to rifle through the cabinets to determine what kind of pots and pans they had. For a group this large, something like lasagna might be easiest, but if they didn't have the pans for it then he'd have to think of something else. After a moment or two of increasingly panicked searching, Izuku found four large baking pans that would suit lasagna well.

Thank goodness - class 1-A wouldn't have to suffer through his as-yet unperfected chicken katsudon. He was peeking in the fridge to confirm the school kept all of the pantry basics stocked when he heard the front door open and stood up to poke his head around the fridge door.

"Hi Deku! How's day one of purgatory going?" Ochako said with a contagious vivacity that somehow made his impending task of cooking for everyone seem not only manageable, but fun.

"Hi Uraraka," he replied, closing the fridge. "It's, well-" His thought was interrupted by a low, muffled boom that rocked the apartment and was followed by a string of creative curse words that Kacchan was yelling in his 'I want to destroy everything in a ten mile radius' voice. "Uh, like that."

She gave him a sympathetic look and dropped her bag on one of the kitchen chairs. "Sounds like you could use some help," she said, winding her shoulder around in a few circles before skipping over to his side of the kitchen island. "What can I do?"

"Um," Izuku said eloquently, struck all of a sudden by the way the afternoon sunlight made flecks of gold shimmer in her eyes. "We can do lasagna? I mean, lasagna is definitely what we're doing, that's not a question or anything since what _else_ could feed so many people on such short notice-"

He was cut off this time by her laughter, full and loud and unrestrained as she walked over to the pantry to pull out a few boxes of lasagna noodles. "Aye aye, cap'n! How about I get the pasta and cheese layer going while you work on the meat sauce?"

"You sure you want to do this? It's a nice day out, you could be doing homework under a tree or practicing those workouts Gunhead gave you."

"I'm one hundred percent sure!" Ochako said, crouching down to pull out the twelve quart stock pot and a couple of ceramic mixing bowls before setting them afloat with her Quirk. "The thought of you tryin' to make food for everyone alone doesn't sit right with me. 'Sides, all this bending and lifting will be something of a workout, right?"

"Right," Izuku said, deciding not to comment on the fact that using her anti-gravity powers to move pans and ingredients around was much less of a workout than lifting them herself. "I'll get on that sauce, then."

His mother used to make a mean marinara more or less from scratch, and it was one of the first recipes he had internalized by virtue of helping her make it so often. First step was cutting up onions and garlic, so he grabbed a cutting board and set up on the other side of the stovetop. There was something soothing about cooking, relaxing in the way the knife rocked back and forth and reduced whole foods to small pieces. It made him think that maybe other things in life could be reduced to something as simple as chop, rotate, chop.

Izuku glanced over at Ochako. She was stirring herbs and spices into what looked like ricotta while the pasta water heated up, her face scrunched a bit in concentration and the side of her cheek touched by a stray lock of hair. He found himself fighting the sudden, inexplicable urge to brush it back.

Maybe he was staring, or maybe she just had an extra keen sense of when someone was looking at her, because she raised her head at that moment and met his gaze, and - _wow_ , her eyes really were sort of golden-brown; how could he have missed that before? "Need anything?" she asked, that simple sincerity in her voice jolting something in his chest he hadn't known was there.

"No no, I'm fine. Just, you know, saucing. Making sauce. Cooking." It appeared that he had lost the ability to form coherent sentences, and he turned back to sliding the chopped onions and garlic into the large skillet he'd placed on the burner to heat up. Once, _just once_ , he'd like to not lose his cool the moment he spoke to a girl.

Though, he thought as he dumped a few pounds of beef into the skillet with the onions, Ochako was the only one who really made him feel like this. None of the other girls in the class seemed to make him into a slack-jawed idiot quite the same way she did, and while something about how that thought made him feel set off alarm bells in the back of his mind, he couldn't process it any further because the pasta pot began to boil over and he rushed over to make sure Ochako hadn't burned herself.

"It's fine, I got it," she said, sounding more harried than her look of calm concentration let on, and opened the lid to give the noodles a stir. "I always forget about the pasta once I put it in."

"Yeah, me too. Here, put a splash of oil in the pot - it'll keep it from foaming over like that again." Izuku moved to grab the olive oil bottle at the same time Ochako did, so they each ended up with a hand curled around the bottle staring at each other like the worst game of chicken he'd ever had the misfortune to play.

"Uh, sorry about that, go ahead," Izuku said, ears burning - _god_ , why was he like this, it was just a bottle, they didn't even touch-

"No, I'm sorry, got a little ahead of myself," Ochako blurted, eyes wide. Her cheeks were a bit flushed, too - he hoped she wasn't getting too hot in here with all of these burners on.

"How's it going with the cheese?" he asked to change the subject and maybe practice using complete sentences.

"Oh! Great, wanna taste?" She fished out a small spoon from a drawer and held it out to him, expectant. "I tried my best to season it, but I'm honestly not the best cook, so it probably needs some adjustments."

Izuku stared at the spoon hovering in his line of sight. She was going to feed him? Just like that? Wasn't there some protocol for this kind of thing? But she was still waiting for him, spoon outstretched, so Izuku slammed his eyes shut, opened his mouth, and leaned forward to receive his cheesy gift.

Of course, it wasn't quite that simple.

The precise moment he leaned forward, Ochako had shoved the spoon into his mouth and set off a violent coughing fit in a desperate attempt to quell his gag reflex, which sent _her_ into a flurry of "OhmygoshI'msosorryisthereanythingIcando," all of which wasn't very helpful in his efforts to compose himself because _now she was patting his back._

"I'm okay," he managed to wheeze after another thirty seconds or so of coughing and swallowing, hands on his knees while she slammed into his back with the heel of her hand. "It tasted good, by the way. Just needs more salt."

"Okay, right! I'm on it!" she said a little too brightly, turning away to find the salt after rubbing one more contrite circle into his back.

If the near-choking experience hadn't been enough to get his heart rate up, the warmth of her touch certainly would have been.

The beef was sizzling nicely in the pan, turning the darker brown of fully cooked, so after giving it a quick, definitely not frazzled stir Izuku poured in a few cans of crushed tomatoes and squeezed in a tube of tomato paste. Next came the spices and, satisfied that the sauce was more or less well on its way to completion, fished out some fresh basil to chop up as garnish.

He was rolling up a wad of the leaves so he could julienne them when Ochako's breath tickled the back of his neck and her voice sounded inches from his ear. "Whatcha cutting up?"

His reaction was instantaneous. One for All Full Cowl tore across his body and granted him the excess power he certainly did not need for simple kitchen tasks, because his next impulse was to slam the knife down and cut clean through the center of his basil pile.

And the cutting board.

"Oh, shoot, um." Ochako looked from Izuku to the cutting board and back a couple times before scampering across the kitchen to dig around another cabinet. "Here, use this one," she said, voice an octave higher than usual as she tapped a new cutting board and sent it floating in his direction. "I'm sososo sorry, I just wanted to help you out but I've been nothing but a menace!"

Izuku grabbed the cutting board and pulled it up so that it covered most of his face. "No, you've been fine, I'm the one who can't control his Quirk very well." He lowered the cutting board a little. "I really do appreciate the help. And that was basil, for the record."

Ochako looked relieved at his words, which made the knot in Izuku's chest loosen somewhat. It was one hundred percent true, though - he hadn't been expecting _anyone_ to want to help out, let alone care so much about doing a good job, so despite his inability to find some much needed calm her presence had been a net gain. "How about we start layering the lasagna? The sooner we can get them into the oven, the less we'll need to worry about Kacchan's Hungry Rage."

"Yeah, good point," she said, laughing. They began layering noodles with the ricotta mixture and meat sauce, getting into such a rhythm by the third pan that they didn't need to speak to build a symphonic tower of cheesy, saucy goodness, finished off with mozzarella and the basil Izuku was finally able to julienne on the new cutting board.

"There," Izuku said with satisfaction when the last pan was put in the oven. "Now we wait. Thanks again for your help, Uraraka."

When he didn't get a response, he turned to see what she was doing and was met with the image of her staring at the oven with tears in her eyes and a faraway look on her face.

"Everything okay?" he asked, taking an unconscious step forward. Did he offend her somehow? Did she cut or burn herself? God, he should have paid more attention to these things; what kind of a friend _was_ he?

The spell was broken when he moved towards her, that megawatt smile lighting up her face so fast he wondered if he'd really seen anything after all. "Ah, yeah, sorry about that. I guess I didn't get as much sleep as I thought and kinda spaced out there. I'm fine."

Glancing at the oven, Izuku said, "Did we miss something with the lasagna?"

Ochako blinked, looking suddenly nervous, like something really was bothering her but she didn't want to inconvenience anyone. "Well, no, not really..."

"You can talk to me, you know," Izuku said, unsure where this surge of confidence was coming from but determined to use it regardless. "Is anything going on?"

She crumbled. Voice thin, like her throat was tight, Ochako said, "It's just, the last time I cooked together with someone like this was when I was back home with Ma and Pa, and we didn't have much, you know, but it was enough, and now here I am eating this nice food while they scrape along." She scrubbed at her eyes. "It doesn't feel right."

Izuku felt his own throat tighten in sympathy. He remembered why she wanted to be a hero, to help support her family and their construction business, and seeing her feel unworthy in any way made him wish he could show her how much he admires her selflessness and dedication. "You worked for this. Of course you deserve to be here and eat good food." He stepped close enough to put a hand on her shoulder. "You're going to be a great hero and help your family, Uraraka. I know it."

Her face contorted for a moment before she grabbed him into a tight hug and hung on. He brought a tentative arm around her waist to better hug her back, and silently willed that all of the fierce respect and admiration he had for her would somehow be absorbed.

After about a minute, she released him with a dry face and a determined expression. "Thanks for the pep talk, Deku. You're right - my parents would want me to enjoy this and be happy, so I'll use the energy it gives me to keep working towards being the best hero I can be."

Her energy was infectious as always, and the answering smile that lifted the corners of Izuku's mouth was also accompanied by a swell of hope. If they kept on supporting each other like this, he had no doubt they would both go far.

"Well isn't that fuckin' adorable. Should I grab Mr. Snuggles so you can all have a goddamn lovefest?" Kacchan was leaning against the wall just outside the kitchen, covered in something Izuku tried not to look at too closely and wearing one of his Imminent Murder expressions. "If Share Our Feelings time is over, I'd like to get some fuckin' food so I can take a fuckin' shower and maybe get some _fuckin'_ sleep before repeating this shitstain of a day tomorrow."

Izuku jumped back from his embrace with Ochako and went to check the oven. "Food'll be ready in another twenty minutes or so. Maybe take that shower first."

Kacchan curled his lip in distaste, but stood up and started to walk away. "It better still be hot when I get back."

In another moment he was gone, and Izuku took a deep breath to try to undo the immediate stress response that talking to Kacchan triggered. His second breath was interrupted by something powdery hitting the side of his face. "What the-"

Ochako had an open bag of flour next to her and three floating orbs of it circling her head. "What's dinner without a good dessert, right?" she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "First person to three body hits gets to choose what it is!" With that, she sent another flour pellet drifting his way and Izuku stopped worrying about Kacchan in favor of seeing if he could reach the bag of flour to fight back before she tagged him again.

While rolling across the kitchen floor to dodge one of her attacks, half-covered in flour and laughing now, he thought that he was lucky indeed to have made such a kind and thoughtful friend.


End file.
